RWBY: Downpour
by No1OfConsequence
Summary: So, this is one of my most boring short stories, and it's about Storm. Just accept it as a day in the life of Storm. The anti-social Storm. This is to fix his character closer to my original vision for him. Other than that, it's just fluff. Rated "K " for not being about unicorns.


**So, this one is about Storm. Here is where it becomes clears what my intention is with these short stories.**

* * *

The rain fell onto Storm's umbrella with a most melodious and chaotic sound. While some may not hear it, nature had its own symphonies it wanted to perform, which Storm listened to.

A chill raced up his spine, making him flinch, and remember why he had to be out. He and Rain—as he was not comfortable going somewhere without somebody else with him—were going to buy parts for his new weapon.

Sure Excelsior was a fine weapon, but he needed a bit more defense. A shield, most likely, would be his new weapon. But what would make it his? He needed something more adaptable than just a shield. Perhaps it turns into a sheath? No, he needed something with range. Perhaps a mini-gun.

But at long last, they arrived at the hardware store.

The sudden burst of warmth was welcome as they stepped through the automatic doors. Storm turned to Rain, seeing that his namesake had dampened his hat. They only had room under the umbrella for one, and as Storm didn't have a hat, Rain didn't get to be under the umbrella. But now that they were inside, Storm could fold up the umbrella, and neither of them would be under it.

They grabbed a cart, and made their way to the weapons aisle. There, they started searching through the parts hanging from the aisle walls. He quickly found the pieces he would need for his shield/mini-gun, putting them in the cart. This would make a substantial dent in his finances, but if he had a new weapon, it might be worth it.

They had just checked out with paper bags full of parts, when they saw Patricia walking out too. She had an easel under her arm, and a basket of paint cans held onto by her other. She took notice of them. "Hey, guys. What's going on?"

Nervously, as a lot of his surprise encounters with Patricia made him nervous, he replied. "Just getting some parts for a new weapon."  
"Great. But I thought you already had one."

"Well, this one is going to be a shield that turns into a min-gun. Something a little more defensive so that I don't get slashed in the face by a Grimm on my first day."

"Well, that sounds good. You need a ride back to your place?"

"Nah, we can get back fine."

"You sure, because it is really pouring out there." Behind her, the glass windows showed that it had gotten even worse outside.

"Then I think we'll take that offer," Rain said. A spike of apprehension went up. He was nervous about this.

They managed to get to Patricia's truck. They put their cargo in the back of the truck and put a tarp over it to keep it dry. Rain got up front with Patricia—both so he could navigate and that he didn't get the umbrella—and Storm got in the back of the cab. It was a little cramped, but he was used to small spaces like these.

On their way home, he stared blankly out the window. The rain was just fine as long as you were inside. The sound and the sight were spectacular, but one wouldn't appreciate it quite as much if you were out in the wet and cold weather.

Eventually, Patricia dropped them off at their home. "Okay, here you go," she announced.

"Thank you," Storm said. And she drove off.

Only then did he realize that she still had the parts for Storm's weapon in the back of her truck! He couldn't do anything about it now, except wait until she got home and call her.

While he waited, he decided to do some stuff. Eat lunch. Watch some gameplay videos from someone called "BirdofPrey14". Stuff like that.

It seemed that no one else was home. That didn't surprise Storm at all. His parents were very active for most of the week, as were his older siblings. It was quiet.

Finally, he decided Patricia must be home by now. Now was time to work up the courage to talk on the phone. He picked up the home phone from off the coffee table, and… realized he did not have Patricia's number.

His eyesight was then blocked by his own hand. It was a reflex for when he had moments like this. He did not feel as smart as he considered himself to be.

He turned to Rain sitting on the couch, hoping he had her number. "Hey, do you know Patricia's number? I forgot to get my stuff from out of the back of her truck when she dropped us off."

"You are an idiot," Rain said.

"I wish you didn't use that word," Storm mumbled.

"Well, I don't know it, but why don't you check if the operator has it?"

"Good idea." He did so, looking up the number for "Patricia Saint or her legal guardian's". He got it, and called the number. "Hello, Patricia? This is Storm."

The voice came through the phone almost unrecognizable—almost. He still identified it as Patricia's—or someone who sounded kind of like her.

He still felt nervous about talking on the phone, though. Fortunately, she made it easy for him. "Hey, Storm. Is this about the parts you left in the back of the truck?"

Relief flowed over him. That meant he didn't need to talk as much. "Yeah."

"Okay. You can come over to my place and get it. I think it stopped raining."

He looked to the window. "Yep, it stopped."

"So you can come over."

While he would have rather not had to go anywhere today after his earlier trip, he supposed he had to go. "Okay." Then he realized another important detail. "Where is it?"

He didn't know where she lived. "Go down the block, take a right, and my house is the one with the tower. Got that?"

"Yep."

"See you soon."

"See ya." He pressed the "end" button on the phone, and put it back down on the coffee table. "I'm off to get my parts from Patricia."

"See you later," Rain said.

He went out the door, and followed Patricia's instructions to the letter, and found her house. The paint of the house was not like most of the other houses'; it was more like a mural than anything else. It was a beautiful mural of a starry night. It was clear that an artist lived here—or at least someone who was artsy, there was a difference.

He decided it was better to knock on the door and talk than simply going into their garage and taking the parts.

He knocked on the blue and white door, and a woman answered. She was older than Patricia, and had blond hair instead of Patricia's red. He assumed she was Patricia's mother. "Yes?" she said.

"I'm here to see to Patricia," Storm said.

"Okay, come in."

He was anxious about going into another person's house. "Can't she come out?"

"No, she's in the tower. That means she's working on a new painting, and can't be bothered to come down." She said it a way that suggested she was kidding around. "I'll take you to her."

He was led up a series of stairs, and eventually to outside a red door with the words "Patricia's workroom" painted on it.

The woman he assumed was Patricia's mother knocked on the door. "Yeah?" a voice from past to door said.

"There's a boy here to see you."

"Send him in."

"Go ahead."

Storm went through the door, and he was amazed by all the canvases with still drying paint on them. "Wow," he said quietly.

He caught sight of Patricia working on a new painting. It had all sorts of shades of green on it and yellow. She turned her head to him. "Think it's nice?"

"I'm no expert in art, but it looks good," he said.

"Thanks." Honesty is the best policy. "Your stuff's still in the truck. Let's go get it." She stood up, and Storm got a good look at her. Instead of her regular combat suit, she wore paint stained overalls that he couldn't tell what their original color was, a green shirt, and paint stained shoes. She led him out of the workroom.

He was led down to the garage where the custom painted truck was waiting. In the back, the weapon parts were still waiting without the tarp over them. "Here you go," Patricia said.

"Thanks," Storm replied. He got the bags out from back of the truck, and bid his farewell. "Thanks."

"You already said that."

"Right. Right. Well, see you next time." He was now glad at the day was over.

He went home, and collapsed on the couch. The day was done.

"Your turn to cook dinner, Storm," Rain said over him. Almost over. Ugh…

* * *

 **I am trying to expand the already expansive (and yet too small) world of RWBY, as well as show sides of my characters that you have not yet seen. You may have noticed there is no physical combat in this one. Well, that's because these are not about epic fight scenes that I couldn't hope to describe properly in text; it's about the internal battles that each character has.  
** **Azura did not want to go to Haven to become a Huntress, and yet she lost that battle. Feather wants to be accepted, and yet it's a Pyrrhic victory. Ember wants to bring Cinder to justice, and yet she has sacrificed a life of her own because of it. Storm didn't want to talk to other people, and yet it's his only option for what he wants. Cirocco-**

 **Oh, wait. I haven't gotten to Cirocco yet. Well, I guess that's for next time. See ya then.**


End file.
